An Actor for a Princess
by ChibiRaccoon
Summary: AU-ish. She's still a princess. He an actor. Somehow they still manage to fall in love. Fluff.


She's still a Princess. He's still an Actor and a Thief. Somehow they still manage to fall in love.

* * *

His name was Zidane Tribal.

And he was the most infuriating man she had ever met.

Their first meeting was the morning of her sixteenth birthday. She had been flooded with an overwhelming cascade of well-meaning sentiments, birthday wishes coupled with all manner of presents from the people of her mother's court. She had receded behind the mask of polite indifference, tiring of the whole affair. The powdered faces that smiled in her direction were not there for her despite their words. They sought to garner favor with the throne and so she allowed her mind to drift as she woodenly accepted their offerings. She perked up however when the herald announced a title that she had never heard before.

"The Tantalous Troupe of Lindblum; Their leader Baku."

The princess watched with carefully concealed interest as a mountain of a man strode forward, flanked by a number of colorful individuals, and bowed before her. His expression was hidden behind tinted spectacles though his formidable mustache twitched as he spoke in a deep-throated voice.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance your majesty."

She inclined her head with a small but genuine smile. These people looked nothing like the stuffy nobles that occupied the room proper. The man, Baku, stepped aside so that the rest of his staff could greet the princess and that's when she first saw him.

The leader's considerable bulk had hidden him from view and it was a good thing it had. She was greeted by a face that didn't seem to care how utterly improper it was to meet the eye's of royalty, especially when one was of lower social standing, and that fact coupled with his completely original appearance made it near impossible for her to look away.

The first thing she noticed was his tail. Thin and covered in tawny fur it flicked from behind him lazily. She had never met someone with a tail that wasn't a Burmecian and if not for years of etiquette training she would have continued to stare. Instead her eyes roved to his face, taking in his brilliant sun-streaked long blond hair that was loosely tied in a low tail. His attire spoke of his occupation as a Player from the entertainment sect with his lacy jabot, green ribbon bow, leather accents that adorned the entirety of the outfit, and pants in the style preferred by those of the lower city. All this she noticed in the span of a few seconds before she was pierced by teasing translucent eyes the color of water on a clear lake.

The princess blinked, stunned, unsure of how to receive this individual that ignored all propriety to daringly look her in the eye with a handsome smirk, bowing low and reaching for her hand. There was a sharp clank of metal from her side and she quickly raised her unoccupied hand to signal to her bodyguard to yield, curious of the strange man before her.

The young performer's face split into a grin of pure mischief. "An honor. And I must say you must be a hell of a thief because you managed to steal _my_ heart from across the room."

She raised her brows as he delivered the line with poetic grace, unimpressed when he emphasized his statement with a daring kiss to the back of her elegant hand. A clatter of metal echoed in the hall as her bodyguard appeared, broad mouth twisted in a snarl and eyes filled with rage. He unsheathed his sword, pointing at the performer who, to the Princess' fascination, appeared completely nonplussed with a blade at his throat. "Rapscallion, you dare place your filthy hands on our princess! I'll have you flogged for your disrespect!"

The rest of the troupe didn't appear alarmed in the slightest, instead sporting varying levels of vexation across their faces. The Princess quickly signaled to her guard.

"Sir Steiner, stand down. No offense was given. I'd rather not have anyone thrown in the dungeons on my birthday please."

Her knight looked ready to blow smoke out of his ears and his face did indeed take on a violent shade of red but he obeyed, rounding on the youth with a growl. "Should your behavior to the princess remain uncouth I will personally have you locked in the stockades for a year!" He returned to his post noisily, clearly fuming.

The Princess resisted the temptation to wearily rub her head and pointed a question at the man who had yet to stop looking so smug with his hands on his hips and tail swishing animatedly. "Might I inquire as to your name good sir?"

Another charming grin coupled with a mocking Players bow. "Zidane Tribal your most illustrious majesty, at your service. He eyed her up and down before adding without an ounce of shame. "For _anything_."

The Princess felt her cheeks grow warm, thrown off balance by his charm and vulgar behavior before leaning back with a dull look. "A pleasure." She remarked tonelessly just as Baku sidled back into view with what she assumed was a vicious glare in Zidane's direction because the tailed-performer winced and hung his head with a retreating bow.

"Apologies for his behavior your majesty. He may be a spirited lad but he's harmless." The Princess noticed Zidane's tail fur puff up like a cat's despite bearing a better resemblance to a monkey's and it limply dipped to twine around his leg.

She waved off his concerns, assuring him that she looked forward to their rendition of 'I am your Canary' and ending the audience with a sigh of relief, her thoughts on the mysteriously smiling Zidane who made it a point of meeting her eyes as he followed his boss out of the room.

Later that night she was treated to a lovely play; a masterful performance of her favorite of Lord Avon's playwrights. So enthralled with the show she was that she requested a moment to personally congratulate the troupe. With a soldier on either side of her she appeared to them backstage, eyes alight with pleasure, as she gushed with some restraint over the performance.

Zidane soaked up the praise, offering his hand to her again. Not even bothered by the way her guards fingered their weapons, he recited, with perfect prose, another line that reveled in her beauty, the verse from another skilled poet. She impatiently asked her guards to stand down, so captivated by Zidane's literary knowledge that she decided to ignore his blatant dismissal of proper decorum in her presence. She peppered him with questions, happy to find someone who had the proper voice for poetry and even went so far as to grant him his request for a private meeting the next day. She went to bed on the night of her sixteenth birthday with the image of dancing blue eyes and a charming smile in her dreams.

And that was how their friendship began.

Zidane proved to be a persistent man when, after their first meeting, his attempts at flirting only increased tenfold no matter how they were received. Though he grated her nerves, Princess Garnet was entranced by his laissez-faire attitude, finding his talent for story-telling delightful.

Soon it came to be that whenever the Tantalus Troupe visited Alexandria (which was often), or the few times she traveled to Lindblum Castle to visit her Uncle Cid, Zidane would be permitted to call on her, their friendship a welcome change from the uptight protocol of her everyday life. He would spin tales and weave stories for her, acting them out in the space of her gardens or convincing her to sneak out with him to the outer grounds. He introduced her to her first Chocobo, a beautiful creature named Choco, and taught her how to throw a knife, giving her the nickname Dagger when she managed to hit the center bulls-eye after hours of practice. She would counter his flirtations with looks of disapproval, refusing to acknowledge him until he drew himself back into her good graces with flowers or a particularly lovely piece of poetry. The maids whispered behind their hands of the funny man who courted their princess but Garnet did not view him as a suitor. He was her friend and she gave it no other thought than that.

Until the day came when their status as friends shifted.

It was her eighteenth birthday and she was given leave to enjoy an hour of privacy in her personal gardens without even a handmaid on call. She stood at the railing of the veranda, singing to the birds that gathered there when they took off in flight and she turned to see him slip from the shadow of a pillar. She was unsurprised to see him, more than used to his ability to sneak wherever his heart fancied.

He wore an expression of boyish charm though she noted a certain hesitance in the way he regarded her as he kneeled at her feet to present her birthday gift as he claimed.

"Where could you be hiding it?" She asked indifferently as she regarded the area around them, expecting one of his many flashy shows of affection. He smiled up at her, quiet for the first time since she met him and she turned to ask what was the matter when he leaned up and delicately placed a kiss to her lips.

She froze, eyes growing large as he pulled away, expression guile-less and tentative.

It struck her then how well he hid his insecurities from the world. She had never had a problem refusing his advances in the past, taking them for half-hearted flirtations and as more of a lark to him. Yet reading the honest uncertainty in his face made her pause, her mind taking his affection for her and seriously considering it.

Before she could formulate a proper response he was standing over her, his lips back on hers, hands gently cradling her face, his tail loosely wrapping around her ankle. She discovered that she no longer had the inclination to refuse him when she found herself returning his kiss, pressing trembling fingers to his cheek.

Their introduction on her sixteenth birthday may have been where it all started but it wasn't until her eighteenth birthday that Garnet truly knew Zidane.

He stole into her room that night by way of her balcony, his grin predatory but his hands gentle. She attempted to deny him but found that she had not the will. His kisses were littered with promises of love, his voice in her ear marveling breathlessly over her beauty. He beheld her with reverence, his heady gaze filling her with a fiery current that she could not stem until he hovered over her, unclothed and bare, unable to resist cracking a joke for which she cuffed him for. He proceeded to lower her to the sheets where in the cover of darkness her relieved her of her maidenhood.

Zidane Tribal was an infuriating man.

He broke through her defenses as if they were non-existent, charming her with his easy smile and bright personality. His touch ignited her senses, making her dizzy with want. His blatant refusal to let something as trivial as her royal status get in the way of their union made her view him with love-laced fear, unsure of what awaited them in the future.

He had taken her, a proper princess, and snuck past all the layers until he had revealed her to be just a woman, a woman who was madly in love with a man in a social class beneath her. What a cliche, she would often think.

If her mother ever caught wind of her frequent trysts with a commoner, an actor no less, then she could only imagine the severe repercussions.

She attempted to relay her fears to him one night as he was raking up the hem of her skirt, citing her worry for him as her main concern but he merely distracted her with a feverish kiss, breaking away and simply stating, "A Tantalus always gets what he sets his sights on."

Not enjoying the response, she pushed away to question his intentions with a hard edge in her voice and a sheen of furious tears in her eyes.

He'd grown quiet then and she willed herself to look at him. The blanket of darkness enveloped him almost entirely in shadow except for a strip of moonlight that fell across his face. Matching chips of steel-hardened teal regarded her seriously and she was breathless, tingling with emotion when he told her in a gravely voice she'd never heard from him,

"One day I'll kidnap the princess from her castle and make her mine."

The line was from one of Lord Avon's lesser known plays, a simple tale of romance, and she was hard-pressed to provide any sort of response before he was upon her, hands groping, teeth scraping along her collarbone, and his leg nudging itself in the space between her thighs.

He said nothing more that night, muffling her cries with his kiss as he showed her what he felt, how she made him feel. He was passionate, more so than ever before, and she lost herself in him, a growing ache in the pit of her heart as she realized that one day what they had would come to a halt.

She was a princess and he a mere citizen of the lower class. Theirs was not a love that would last and she silently swore to give all of herself to him whenever he came to her, for there was no telling when it would be the last.

That day came sooner than she expected, four years to the day since their first meeting. Twenty years of age and struck dumb by the declaration her mother delivered to her over her favorite breakfast. Her shock was misinterpreted for excitement, a testament to how little her mother truly knew her, and she was sent away to prepare for the day, escorted by her faithful general.

Hollowly she followed Beatrix to her room where her maids fitted her into her birthday dress, a stunning gown of pearl embroidered with intricate leaves and vines in green. A matching tiara was placed over her gleaming locks of freshly-brushed ebony and once they finished the princess dismissed them, desperate for a moment to herself before reality reared it's ugly head.

Remembering how much she had enjoyed the festivities of her sixteenth birthday, Queen Brahne had commissioned the Tantalus Troupe to play her favorite tale once again before the announcement of her impending marriage. Seeing the Prima Vesta in the private courtyard had sent her heart into a flurry and she expected Zidane to appear at any moment to bother her as he always did when they were in the public eye. It wasn't until she was sitting gracefully in her seat at her mother's side, late afternoon lighting the stage in the arena below them in a brilliant orange haze that she felt her heart freeze with the dizzying realization that Zidane _had not come_.

The play began with Baku lumbering on stage and she viewed it all with a sense of detachment, dismally grieving without tears and drawing looks of concern from her bodyguard.

As the character Marcus woefully lamented for his love on the stage Garnet strove to accept her fate, knowing she had to move on, when suddenly Marcus's voice changed in tempo and her heart racing to believe that the impossible was standing before her.

She should've known. What with his flair for the dramatic, it would have surprised her more if he hadn't gone out of his way to create such a spectacle...

Her name, not her true name but the name _he_ gave her, was ringing in the air, the Marcus-cloak dramatically tossed aside and it was her lover there, calling out to her, his eyes beseeching her to choose. To choose him.

She wasn't even aware of having rushed out of her seat, nor of choosing, only that her legs were moving, heart hammering in her chest when it appeared that her guard and general would impede her from going to him. But they surprised her with the compassion in their gazes as they opened the doors with understanding smiles and a bow from the latter. Fleeing down the spiral staircase, ignoring the indignant squawk of her mother from behind she thrust herself into the crowd. She refused to stop, even when her most precious possession, a pendant she'd owned since birth, was thrown to the cobblestones. In her mind, in that moment, nothing mattered so much as getting to him. She reached the edge of the crowd, tossing her tiara to the side without a care, launching herself at the man who had stolen her heart years ago and who had been unable to resist the temptation of presenting himself as her suitor in the presence of Alexandrian nobility and commoner alike.

She pounded her fists against his chest, hot tears rolling down her cheeks as he brushed a hand fondly through her hair, his expression amused but tender, and she melted against him, feeling free for the first time in her life within the cage of his embrace.

* * *

Owari

* * *

I really just wanted to write ZigDag. I have to give Square credit for making me obsess so much over Final Fantasy.


End file.
